Lest We Forget
by The Love Dragon
Summary: Anniversary of a dark time. In memory of the ANZAC's.


**Lest We Forget**

The sun was rising slowly over the mountains, tainting the dark sky with rays of pearly red and peach orange, staining the glistening frost with colours that drove forth memories through the minds of a gathered crowd on a barren land below. Within the shadows of age old wall ruins was a congregation of people who for all intents and purposes looked as though they themselves were in tune with the crumbled structure they stood before. The grounds on which they stood looked as though it had been burnt to a crisp with the land blackened and callous, giving off a sense of darker times past.

Heads were bowed, and wreathes were clutched to the bodies of those gathered, each silent in their thoughts, neither giving notice to the one who stepped forward, closer to the murky deep lake. The single figure raised their head, staring out across the surface that reflected back faces they wished were not there to see. Eyes glazed over in moments of a year ago, tears came unbidden to the dull coloured irises which saw not what was before them. Turning slowly, the lone person faced the group behind and began to speak in a low and raspy voice.

"_With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,_

_England mourns for her dead across the sea._

_Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,_

_Fallen in the cause of the free._

_Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal_

_Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres._

_There is music in the midst of desolation_

_And a glory that shines upon our tears._

_They went with songs to the battle, they were young,_

_Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow._

_They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,_

_They fell with their faces to the foe._

_They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;_

_Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn._

_At the going down of the sun and in the morning_

_We will remember them._

_They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;_

_They sit no more at familiar tables at home;_

_They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;_

_They sleep beyond England's foam._

_But where our desires are and our hopes profound,_

_Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,_

_To the innermost heart of their own land they are known_

_As the stars are known to the Night;_

_As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,_

_Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,_

_As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,_

_To the end, to the end, they remain._"

Voice fading, the standalone stepped right to the waters edge and lowered the wreath they'd clutched to their chest to the water face of the shadowed lake. One by one the surrounding mourners came closer to place their own wreathes upon the glistening flow. As each stepped back, they once more bowed their heads and clutched their hands to their chests, listening as the solitary body intoned words presented on a banner they lay among the wreathes.

"You gave your life for your family and world, you gave your lives to give chance to the rest, you gave your lives and forever you shall be known as the heroes, for you were the ones who bettered our world, and shaped it for the greater. You all shall be forever remembered and forever loved. Defenders of Hogwarts."

Numerous cracks were heard as the crowd departed, leaving the sole person standing before the wreathes, remembering each they represented. One in particular held their gaze as the tears fell to splash below, the one this figure themselves placed on the Hogwarts lake. Crying softly, they sank to their knees, the face of Harry Potter smiling back at the frail and broken man on the charred earth, smiling back at the old Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

**Hey all. I know this is a little different from normal, but I just wanted to do something for ANZAC Day, in memory of the fallen troops who fought for the future of our countries and world.**

**I want to formally dedicate this to my great great uncle Jack Ross, who as of this year is the last surviving WWI Veteran at the age of 110. His story is something that has inspired me, and I've come to the decision to become a member of the Australian Armed Forces. So hopefully I too can help make a better future for my family and country.**

**Lest we forget.**

**The Love Dragon.**

**P.S. The poem was For the Fallen written by Laurence Binyon (1869-1943).**


End file.
